Living It

It is not the critic who counts
Nor the man who points out how
the stong man stumbles
Or where the doer of deeds
Could have done better.
The credit belongs to the man
Who is actually in the arena;
Whose face is marred by dust
And sweat and blood;
Who knows great enthusiasm,
Great devotion and the triumph
of achievement.
And who, at the worst, if he fails
At least fails while daring greatly-
So that his place shall never be
With those odd and timid souls
Who know neither victory nor defeat.
You've never lived until you've almost died.
For those who have had to fight for it
Life has truly a flavour
The protected shall never know.

-Theodore Roosevelt